Page:Emily Dickinson Poems - second series (1891).djvu/178

 166 POEMS.


 * XLIII.


 * THE JUGGLER OF DAY.

LAZING in gold and quenching in purple,
 * Leaping like leopards to the sky,

Then at the feet of the old horizon Laying her spotted face, to die;

Stooping as low as the otter's window, Touching the roof and tinting the barn, Kissing her bonnet to the meadow, — And the juggler of day is gone!